


Holy

by indigostohelit



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cults, M/M, Priests, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-12
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigostohelit/pseuds/indigostohelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kink meme: Steve is the new high priest to the cult of Stark. As a test, he has to spend a night alone in the inner chambers of the high temple. Completely alone. So what is that dark-haired man doing there and why is he strutting around like he owns the place? ...oh. OH. Steve knew he was supposed to have some sort of otherworldly experience, he just didn't think it would involve being checked out by his god and then fucking said god on the altar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holy

There's a shadow in the corner that's not supposed to be there.

Steve's lit the candles, he's cast the incense, he's invoked the spirit of Stark, and he's been meditating for an hour now. There's something clear and calm about this temple and the impossible, heartstopping ceremony of this moment: every high priest in a thousand years before him has spent this night in the temple, every high priest has done what he is doing, and he will join their number once he's spent a single night in the temple, alone.

Only he's not alone.

He rises to his feet within the circle of candles. The shadow in the corner moves; it's definitely a man. "This is the temple of the great god Stark," says Steve, and he knows he's got that rolling, deep tone down that a high priest needs. "You have trespassed on His ground, stranger. This is forbidden."

"Oh, that's cute," drawls a voice from the corner, and the shadow detaches from the wall, resolving into a man with dark hair and smirking lips lined with a mustache. He's dressed in a tunic and robes similar to Steve's, only while Steve's clothes are the white of a high priest, the man's are a deep red with gold lining. He stops and rakes his eyes over Steve, and to Steve's own embarrassment, he feels a blush rising to his cheeks.

"Oh, that _is_ cute," says the man, raising his eyebrows. "Tell Michael thanks from me- oh, no, Mike's dead, isn't he? That's why you're here?"

"The former high priest of the worshipers of the great god Stark has passed unto the land of Malibu," says Steve. "I am his successor."

The man grins, sharp and brilliant. "Great god Stark, huh? I really like this, this gets better every time one of you shows up." He saunters over to the circle of candles and kneels, peering at them. "And this, this is new. What's it supposed to be, the arc reactor? It was a triangle for a while, but I guess triangles are boring."

"Stranger," says Steve, trying to get that imperious tone back, "you are speaking blasphemy in the very house of Stark-"

The dark-haired man snorts. "House? You've got to be kidding. This place doesn't even have a swimming pool. Or wi-fi. I mean, come on, you try to build a guy a house and you don't even give me wi-fi? What is this, the Dark Ages?" He tilts his head to the side and sniggers a little. "Stark Ages. Okay, that would be cool, you can call them that, I decree a commandment or whatever it is I'm supposed to do."

Steve stares.

The great god Stark looks up and smirks. "Oh, hel- _lo_ , soldier. Now he gets it."

Steve's knees can't seem to hit the floor fast enough. He bows as deeply as he can, head pressed to the stone of the ground. "My Lord," he breathes. "My great lord Stark, please, please accept all my humblest obeisances-"

"Tony," says the great god Stark firmly.

Steve pauses. "What?"

"Call me Tony," says the great god Stark. "The great lord Stark is my dad, or whatever. Well, he isn't, pretty sure my dad wasn't a god, thank God for that, but still. Tony. Great lord Stark sounds like... _paperwork_." He shudders.

"All right," says Steve. This is not exactly going as he'd expected.

"And get up," adds the great god- adds _Tony._ "The whole bowing thing is so awkward-making, honest. And you have a gorgeous face, new guy. Not that seeing your ass sticking up in the air isn't gorgeous too." He pauses, considers. "Really gorgeous, actually. Huh. Okay, figuring out a plan of action here."

"Lord- Tony?" asks Steve, tentatively raising his face from the floor and sitting back on his heels. Tony's looking deeply contemplative.

"The thing is," he says, "face for ass is not an equal trade, but I don't want to have to choose. Especially since both of yours are so fantastic." He looks utterly lost in thought for a few moments. Steve is just lost.

Finally Tony's face clears, and he snaps his fingers. "I have it!" he says. "See, this is why I'm a genius and you're not, because I'm the one who comes up with the good ideas. I am so smart I should get a certificate, honestly." His eyes brighten. " _Yes._ A certificate. I want a certificate. One I can put up in my office, and frame, and kiss occasionally if the mood strikes me, that reads Tony Stark, Certified Genius. It would be _amazing._ Take off your shirt."

Steve says, "What."

"Take off your shirt," says Tony, looking at him as one might at a small child. "Face for ass is not fair. Face plus abs for ass is very fair. Maybe even favorable. Let's see. Shirt off."

Slowly, not quite able to believe this, Steve pulls off his tunic. Tony lets out a long, low whistle. "All right," he says. "Abs are equal trade. Abs are favorable trade. Abs are good trade. I like. I definitely like. Yes. Abs are good. Must make a note."

"Tony," says Steve, "have you come to give me a message for your followers?"

Tony blinks. "What?"

"A message for your followers," repeats Steve. "Of prophecy, or wisdom, or news of your glory." He gulps, and he's sure he's blushing again. "You don't know how long I've waited for this. I've prayed to see you since I was a little boy. That's why I became the high priest when Father Michael died, because my devotion was greater than any other." He reaches out to Tony involuntarily through the circle of candles and stops just short of touching the god. "Did you come to bring a message?" he says again.

Tony blinks a few times. "Well," he says, and then again, lower and richer, " _Well._ " His eyes are glittering.

"Tony?" says Steve nervously. "What are you going to do?"

"What's your name?" says Tony.

"Steve," says Steve.

Tony nods. "All right. Here's what I'm going to do, Steve," he says. "I'm going to take you over to that altar you've made me over there, and then I'm going to strip you out of the remainder of your clothes, and then I'm going to suck your brains out through your cock until you are a broken, shuddering mess and the only thought left in your head is my name, over and over again."

Steve opens his mouth. Steve closes it again.

"Good," says Tony, and lunges at him through the candles.

Something in the distant back of Steve's mind is an awareness that one of the candles has fallen over. The rest of him is focused on nothing but the sheer, utter _want_ that rises up in him for Tony Stark, pressed up against him, legs around his waist and hands on his shoulders, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. There's a faint burn of stubble that rasps against Steve's cheeks, and Steve wonders how it would feel between his legs, rough and teasing-

Tony gives a long, low groan, and Steve realizes they're both hard. Tony is writhing in his lap, kissing him like a starving man. Somewhere in this Tony's tunic has disappeared, and their bare chests are pressed together. The friction of the cloth of their robes is driving Steve crazy, making him gasp into Tony's mouth, moan around his tongue.

He detangles himself from under Tony and guides them upward without breaking the kiss. Tony is mindlessly pressing himself forward, trying to rub against Steve wherever he can, and there's something intoxicating about that, about the power Steve has over a god, the control he has over the man he worships.

"The altar," he murmurs against Tony's lips, and Tony nods but doesn't move. Steve has to pull back- and oh god, is that a _whine_ \- to get Tony to follow him to the stone altar, where Steve sits down and guides Tony's hands to the belt of his robe. Once he's found it, Tony undoes it eagerly, letting his hands linger on Steve's hips, and once it drops to the floor, Tony sinks down after it, staring.

"Steve," he says. "Steve, you're so gorgeous, you're so _perfect,_ God, look at you," and wraps his lips around Steve's cock and takes him in whole.

A noise comes out of Steve that he's pretty sure isn't human. He's trying desperately not to pound into Tony's mouth, but Tony is all _there_ , warm and hot and wet around him, his eyes closed like he's enjoying this more than anything else he's ever done in his life, like Steve is the best thing that's ever happened to him. As Steve watches, he opens his eyes and sees Steve watching and downright _hums_ around Steve's cock.

Steve can't help it; he begins to rock into Tony, and Tony makes encouraging noises around him, just takes him deeper and deeper. There's incoherent noises spilling out of Steve's mouth, a mixture of _holy God, holy God_ and _TonyTonyTonyTony_ , and if Tony doesn't stop soon Steve is going to-

"Gonna-" he manages to gasp out, and that just makes Tony groan desperately, and Steve is coming, coming, coming like a flood into his mouth, and Tony swallows it all down before pulling off, his hand going to his own cock, stroking and jerking frantically. He's such a sight, a god destroyed and debauched, and Steve breathes " _Tony_ ," through his haze, and with a choked noise, Tony comes all over his own hand.

They lie there that way for a while, Steve collapsed on the altar and Tony boneless on the floor, before Tony slowly picks himself up and lays down on the altar next to Steve, curling his body up against him. With an effort, Steve turns over and wraps an arm around his back.

"Stay," he murmurs muzzily against Tony's forehead.

"'S what I do," Tony murmurs back.

The slow, regular sound of his breathing is the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, the sun is just beginning to creep over the stone floor of the temple, and the sounds of the birds are bright and cheery outside. Steve blinks a few times and sits up. He's on the altar, fully dressed. There's no one next to him.

A dream.

A dream?

The candles are set in a circle, all burned into wax puddles on the floor. All but one, lying there, knocked over during the night.

Steve smiles.

 _Stay,_ he'd told his god. And Tony had whispered, _'S what I do._

He can't quite wait for the night.


End file.
